


Start from the Center and Work Your Way Out

by victoriousscarf



Series: Stars Burn Out [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Post RotJ, Pre-The Force Awakens, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-08 22:26:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5515547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victoriousscarf/pseuds/victoriousscarf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes stars centuries to implode</p><p>(Really that means you're making up for lost time because you only have decades)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Start from the Center and Work Your Way Out

**Author's Note:**

> This is set between Return of the Jedi and The Force Awakens so some spoilers (even by implication) for that movie. So you know the drill, read at your own risk etc etc etc.

Han kissed Luke like he was caught between too many conflicting emotions. Like he wanted to go slow, tender and careful, his fingers tracing Luke's cheeks, but at the same time like he was scared Luke was going to disappear and he had to express just exactly how much he wanted him, how much he loved it. It tipped from so gentle it made Luke's hands ache to hard and messy faster than Luke could keep up with.

“I'm not going anywhere,” Luke said into the space between them when Han pulled back.

“I know,” Han said, defensively.

Luke frowned at him, but his chin kept inching forward, his mouth asking for another kiss.

He might not be going anywhere, but he did keep drawing back.

Han kissed him and it was like coming home, but he still left, Artoo beeping at him about an emergency, or Leia calling for him, or the war getting between them and he had never spent the night on the Falcon.

“Hey, Luke,” Han said, catching him one day and propping his arm on the wall above Luke's head. Luke tilted his head back, shoulders pressed against the metal of the ship. While Han's posture was caging him in, it made him oddly content instead of desperate to get away.

“What can I help you with, Han?” he asked.

“I just want to know,” Han said. “If there's actually a problem. With you and me.”

“What problem could there be?” Luke said and it rang hollow even to his own ears.

Han just stared at him. “Look, kid,” he said. “I don't mind taking it slow,” and he smirked, his other hand tracing Luke's throat and ending at his collar bone, resting there hot and heavy. Luke wanted so much it felt like being slammed into the wall. “I really don't mind,” Han added, voice low and heavy. “I just need to know that's what we're doing. That there's not something else that's making you skittish.”

Luke blinked, because when he allowed himself to think about Han, and the way he lounged back and smirked and drawled, this was not what he had imagined. “You are?” he asked and felt for sure he should not be surprised.

Instead of pulling back, Han just smirked at him, his fingers still on Luke's collar bone. “Yeah,” he said. “Kriffing moons, Luke. Even if I usually rush into this, you really think I'd risk it with you?” He leaned forward, into the tiny amount of space left between them. “Luke, I'm willing to do what you need me to.”

“There's nothing else,” Luke lied. “It's just—I'm not used to having... something like this.”

Han smiled, sweet and warm and Luke felt like he couldn't breath when Han kissed him.

-0-

Leia had twins and Luke and her just exchanged a wry look with each other.

Han seemed incomparably floored when Leia deposited both of them onto his lap. “You look surprisingly decent with both of them,” she said, stepping back to take in the picture.

Hovering at the door, Luke tried not to stare too obviously.

“Hey, princess,” Han started, hesitant when he looked up.

She shook her head. “For the kids,” she said. “I'll get along with you.” Her mouth twitched, because they had been dancing around each other the last month of her pregnancy, and she had thrown data cubes and charts at his head one time. Since then she seemed to have calmed down slightly. “We still work together well after all. Who knows, in a few years I might even be willing to call you a friend again.”

Luke let out a breath and tried to swallow his smile while Han looked at her, stunned and happy.

-0-

“Leia knows, right?” Han asked when Luke allowed him back up for air. Luke had stormed back from a mission, aching and furious and had deposited himself in Han's lap, in the Falcon's cockpit where he had been tinkering with the controls.

“What?” he asked, pulling back.

“You said once she wasn't going to toss me out the airlock,” Han said. “But, I mean, does she really—”

“If you're having second thoughts,” Luke offered, unsure why Han was bringing this up again.

“No,” Han said. “I don't want you to have problems with your sister is all. I'd hate to come between you. And with the kids, I don't want to mess things up with her, you know? I like being a part of their lives.”

“It's a little late,” Luke said. “But she said she's alright with it. In the abstract, I'm certainly not going to flaunt you in front of her.”

The corner of Han's mouth twitched up. “Are you going to flaunt me to anyone?”

Luke's mouth went dry. “I,” he licked his lips and swallowed and tried again. “It might make social functions more enjoyable.”

“I love how command makes sure you have time to attend all their parties,” Han said and he didn't sound like he loved it at all.

“Moral,” Luke started and Han kissed him to cut him off. “It's good for moral,” Luke breathed when they parted. He twined his arms around Han's neck and realized he had twisted around as they kissed, and now he straddled Han's waist, his knees on either side of his hips.

“You know,” Han said. “Your own moral needs boosting too sometimes.”

“And how do you propose to do that?” Luke asked, too distracted and breathless.

“I have some ideas,” Han said, and his fingers had been tracing down Luke's back and now had found their way underneath his black robes, brushing across bare skin. Luke jerked, and let his head fall back, closing his eyes.

“Look at you,” Han said. “Can I take your shirt off?”

Luke paused, staring at the top of the cockpit before he nodded. “If yours comes off too,” he decided and Han grinned, delight and want on his face. Luke kissed him again when and helped him first with the belt and then the rest of the black shirt, finally pulling the whole mess of fabric over his head.

He tried not to think about _love_ or _the Jedi Code_ , because all he wanted to think about was Han—

“Luke,” Han said faintly and Luke snapped out of his thoughts, because that tone was wrong. It was hesitant and confused.

“What?” he asked and Han's fingers had come up to his shoulder, tracing down it and Luke wanted to jerk away because he knew exactly what Han was looking at now.

“What is this?” he asked.

Luke pulled his shoulder back, and wanted to cover his belly where the other scar was. The burst of lightning that was imprinted on to his skin, the scars that hadn't ever started healing, even though the medical droid had said in its monotone voice “Lightning scars usually fade when they are naturally occurring.”

“I didn't get bacta on it in time,” Luke said.

“You mean you didn't notice?” Han asked, and his fingers were still tracing the feathery scar on his shoulder.

“I noticed when it happened,” Luke snapped. “I didn't have time. It stopped hurting anyway, and I didn't realize about the marks until later.”

“ _When_?” Han demanded. “It looks like a lightning strike. Were you on a mission where I wasn't—”

“Endor,” Luke said and Han stopped. “On the Death Star.”

“There isn't lightning on the Death Star,” Han said slowly and Luke felt a scream lodge in his throat. He still hadn't told anyone exactly what happened and no one had asked him. The Rebel leadership had wanted to know but a simple report had seemed to satisfy them. The Death Star was destroyed and he was alive and Vader and Palpatine weren't, which seemed to be enough for them.

“Not naturally, no,” Luke said and Han pulled away.

“You came back whole from that experience,” he said, still slow and Luke couldn't stop the hysteric bark of laughter that escaped him. “You said you were fine in the village, you acted like—”

“I didn't know what else to do,” Luke said. “You had already—I didn't want to burden you with my problems.”

“Your problems,” Han repeated, incredulous. “Luke, that has never been a burden.”

“We'd just won,” Luke said, voice flat. “I didn't want to take that away from anyone. It was a time of celebration—”

“And to heal our wounds,” Han said, and his fingers tightened on Luke's thighs. “And you don't sound like you think we won.”

Luke stopped, trying to control his breathing. “Of course we won,” he said. “The second Death Star was destroyed, and though we're still fighting, the Empire lost two of its strongest figures that day. We won the day, I'd never, I don't question that.”

“Luke,” Han said softly. “Tell me what happened.”

Eyes drifting away, Luke swallowed hard. “I haven't told anyone.”

Han leaned forward, and Luke tilted back, almost toppling off Luke's lap. “All the more reason to tell me,” he said.

“No, it's not,” Luke protested and closed his eyes.

“Luke,” Han said, and there was a note of warning and another of desperation in his voice.

It was the second that gave Luke pause. “It's a long—it's complicated,” he said finally.

“I can wait,” Han said and it was as if they hadn't just been on their way to something else entirely. Han settled back in his seat, Luke still straddling his lap and Han's fingers were still idly stroking the lightning marks on his belly. But he looked for all the world content to sit there and listen to Luke.

It still took Luke several tries to make his voice work. “I gave myself up to Vader,” he said. “You knew—I think—about that, when I left. I told Leia where I was going—”

“But not me,” Han said. “I remember. I was jealous because I thought for sure that meant you and her,” he shrugged and then paused. “You gave yourself up. Does that mean you knew he was your father by that point?”

“Yes,” Luke said. “He told me on Bespin.”

Han tensed, and there were shadows in his eyes too. “Oh,” he said. “So when he set that trap, he already knew.”

Luke nodded. “That's why—that's when being around me became a danger.” Han narrowed his eyes at him but Luke pressed on. “He knew, he knew exactly what to do. Han, I felt your pain systems away. I was on Dagobah, and I could fell your pain. I mean, I wasn't on the other side of the galaxy, but there were dozens of systems between us and it was still enough to make me abandon my training, against the advice of the only mentors I had because I could not stand that you and Leia were being hurt for me.” He paused. “Except, it was only your pain I felt.”

Han's eyes dropped. “They were only physically hurting one of us at that point,” he said and gave a tiny shrug.

Taking a breath to try and center himself, Luke nodded. “Well, it was enough. I walked into the trap he had set me. And I did it again on Endor because I felt, that after everything,” and he couldn't actually look at Han while he spoke. “There was still good in him. There had to be. I gave myself up to him to try and reach him.”

Han looked like he wanted to interrupt, to ask questions but kept his mouth shut.

“He took me to the Emperor on the Death Star,” Luke said, and he had already memorized every piece of the bulwark behind Han's head. “As he had been ordered to do.” There were fine shivers running up and down Luke's spine. “The Sith, as far as I've been able to piece together, have a master and an apprentice. The two of them because Sith are power hungry and more leads to chaos. The rare kind they don't like.” He shook his head. “Each master always wants the most powerful apprentice, and so they pit their current one against whoever they think might beat them. The Emperor wanted me to—” He broke off, closing his eyes.

“It's okay,” Han said, and Luke used his touch to ground himself. “You aren't there anymore. They're both dead.”

“I know,” Luke said and forced his eyes open. “He wanted me to become his next apprentice. Vader had become his after killing the one before him, who replaced another apprentice. Vader brought me to his master knowing I was supposed to replace him. He had, he had asked me before, to rule the Galaxy with him.” He swallowed hard. “As father and son. Together, he thought we had a chance, but when I told him there was still good in him he said it was too late.”

Hans fingers clenched and Luke met his eyes. “I know that's hard for you,” he said. “I know he did awful things to you and so many countless others but he was my _father_ and everyone was telling me my only task was to kill him and I couldn't—not without trying everything else first.”

“So,” Han said because Luke had fallen silent. “Did you fight Vader for him.”

“No,” Luke said. “Not like that. I only—He took my lightsaber. Set it down by his hand and said he was unarmed and I should strike him down. He said I should fall to the dark side.”

Han blinked at him. “You didn't, though,” he said but for the first time he sounded doubtful.

“I didn't,” Luke said. “Until he said that the whole fleet was heading for a trap, and that my friends down on the forest moon were—were already taken.”

For his part, Han seemed to be noticing every time Luke's voice tripped over his fear for him and Leia. But he did not draw away or do anything except keep stroking Luke's stomach.

“I took the lightsaber and Vader intercepted my blow,” Luke said. “We fought. The whole time, they were both trying, they were both taunting me. With my failure. With you and the others. Trying to tip my emotions over into the dark side. Only when Vader mentioned Leia, pulling the knowledge of my sister and my fear for her out of my head, out of my emotions did I really—” He swallowed hard, burying his face in Han's shoulder. “I lost myself. I almost killed him. I was drawing on the Force completely through my rage. It was the most—” his fingers tightened on Han's waist. “I never want to experience that again.”

Han's arms were around his back. “Did you kill him?” he asked.

“No,” Luke said. “I cut off his hand and realized it was the same hand he had cut off me,” and his mechanical fingers curled and uncurled when he realized how much stronger they were against Han's shoulder blades. “And the thought—that I could turn into him, that I was already turning into him, was enough to make my stop. I couldn't kill him.” His mouth quirked up humorlessly. “When I told the Emperor that he was very disappointed.”

“Luke,” Han said and for the first time he sounded scared.

“I told him he had failed, and he believed me. I was worthless to him then, so he had to get rid of me.” He let out a breath through his nose. “Torturing someone's son to death in front of them, even a Sith apparently, doesn't sit well with anyone.” He laughed and it sounded hollow. “He could summon lightning with the Force. I don't know how, I don't _want_ to know how. If I know it means I really have given into the dark side.”

Han let out a shocked sound. “How can anyone—”

“The Force,” Luke murmured. “Allows you to do amazing things.” He pushed himself back, wanting to see Han's face for the first time since he started talking. “I couldn't think, through all that pain. The only thing I knew was that I would have done anything to make it stop. All I did was scream out for my father to help me, and he did. He picked up the Emperor and threw him into the depths of the Death Star, lightning going with him all the way down. So you see, I didn't kill either of them. They killed each other.” Luke laughed again, looking at the ceiling. “Doesn't make me much of a hero of the Rebellion, does it?”

“Vader wouldn't have turned on him without you,” Han said after the silence between them had stretch from moments to minutes. “That I'm sure of.”

“Han,” Luke said softly and Han was looking at the scars with a considering look, his fingers tracing first one then the other. “Han, I almost fell, I almost could have become—”

“But you didn't,” Han said. “And you won't. That I believe with everything I am.” He traced Luke's chin and up to the back of his hairline. “There may have been some good buried in Vader, but there is just _too much_ good in you.”

Luke's eyes fluttered shut. “I burned Vader,” he said softly. “When we got off the Death Star, just before it exploded. He died on that station, we had almost gotten out but he couldn't—so I gave him a funeral on Endor and came to the join the rest of you.”

Han shook his head, as if trying to place everything Luke had said with his appearance in the Ewok village. “Kid,” he breathed and kissed Luke as if there was nothing else he could do. “Kid, why didn't you tell anyone before?”

“Because they couldn't have helped,” Luke said. “They couldn't have changed anything.”

“You still didn't deserve to carry this all alone,” Han said. “Luke, stay here with me tonight.”

Luke shuddered, because he felt too scattered and raw to imagine letting Han any closer. “I—” he started, and started to pull himself back.

“No,” Han said. “Not like that, I just don't want you to wake up alone, okay? I want to hold you. Nothing else. Unless, you want to,” he smiled ruefully. “Don't worry, that story killed the mood for me too. I just want you to be here, and to hold you.”

Luke hesitated. “Alright,” he said, and tried not to think about every time he had almost gone too far, or had made a mistake on his path to being a Jedi had to do with either Han or Leia or both of them.

-0-

Once, Anakin's ghost hand had hovered too close to Luke, as if he desperately wanted to touch his son, even through the force. When his hand had passed though Luke's shoulder, it had sent a jolt through him that felt too much like the lightning, and the ghostly blue.

Luke had muffled a scream behind his hands and Anakin had never tried it again. But sometimes his hands still hovered in the air, a foot or more away from Luke, like all he wanted to do was touch him.

-0-

The twins were growing up in the middle of a rebellion that was hovered on the edge of wining, even as it realized all at once its leaders might not become the leaders of the new government.

Luke was everywhere and no where in those last months of the Empire, fighting and exhausted until the end. The real end would linger on for much longer, and the Empire never really died. It simply faded and morphed and later became something else, another order rising from the ashes.

But in the meantime, there were suddenly dozens of squabbling sides, desperate to make their own claim to power and legitimacy.

“A rabble who has luck in battle and assassinations is hardly fit to become the next government,” a Bothan sniffed and Leia looked like she was about to leap across the table and throttle them.

Luke could barely keep his eyes open, he wanted to lie down on the metal table and sleep so badly.

“Our... rabble,” Leia grit out. “Is made up of many members of the Imperial Senate—”

“Who hardly has their hands clean either,” another delegate piped up from down the table and Leia blazed on.

“Who may or may not have had any real power. Nonetheless, the Senate was the only link with the Old Republic—”

“Maybe we wish to be rid of the skeletons of the Old Republic as much as the Empire,” the Bothan said and Leia's teeth were grinding so hard Luke thought he could hear them. “We want a clean slate.”

“That's not possible,” Leia said, and Mon Mothma, who had once served on the old Senate, and than the Imperial Senate, sat still as a stone statue.

“Then we'll simply have to do the best we can,” the Bothan said and his eyes slid over. Luke barely had time to notice they had focused on him before he continued. “And maybe that means we can do without the Jedi too.”

Luke stared. “Perhaps,” he said finally, and the lightsaber at his belt felt far too heavy. “But I am building a school, nevertheless. I will not let these traditions die.”

“Maybe some traditions are meant to,” the Bothan sniffed.

Leia stormed out of the meeting and never came back to another one as the Rebellion slowly lost its power and the politicians moved in.

“They're like vultures,” she muttered. “Not fighting but coming in behind like they earned the right—”

“It's not really about earning the right to do anything,” Luke said.

“Do you really think they could ever be the best for any of us?” Leia snapped.

“I don't know,” Luke settled on finally.

Leia's jaw tensed but she smoothed out her expression when she turned around to him. “But you will build a school?” she asked.

“Yes,” Luke said.

-0-

He woke up screaming and Han knew better than to hold him during those times. The first time he had tried, wrapping his arms around Luke and telling him he was okay, Luke had used the Force to throw him all the way across his bunk, hitting the opposite wall with a solid thunk.

That meant it took three times as long to calm Luke down again. Han insisted he was fine but he had also never tried that again.

Instead he got up, while Luke buried his face in his hands and left the room. After a few minutes, when Luke had figured out how to breath again, Han returned with some warm drink. What depended on what supplies they had managed to find, but Luke's favorite was the old herbal tea like his aunt had made. It was the cheapest on the market and thus the easiest to find, but it tasted like home and in the middle of the night that was what he needed most.

“So I hear you're leaving soon,” Han said, when Luke was sipping on the tea, sitting in the middle of the bunk.

“I need to start looking for students,” Luke said and Han leaned against the wall, his ankles crossed. “I'm already starting to feel like I'm running out of time. I need to find out all I can about the Jedi as well as Force sensitive students.”

“Do you have any idea where to begin looking?” Han asked.

“The old temples,” Luke said. “I think I've found the location of a couple of them.”

“So when are we leaving?” Han asked and Luke stopped, slowly looking up.

“What?”

“Did you think you were going out there alone, kid?” Han asked, amused and sad all at once.

“It's my burden,” Luke said. “And the kids—”

“Are we thinking of never coming back?” Han asked, arching a brow and Luke shook his head. “I'm already gone as often as I'm here. Leia is the one who's raising those beasts and we all know it. I love them,” and his voice cracked. “But I could no more tie myself to one planet than cut off my own hands. Come on, Luke, me and Chewie will see your school started. We have a lot of ground to cover, don't we?”

“Yeah,” Luke said weakly.

-0-

Han was still careful when he touched Luke, and even though they had been sharing the same bed as often as not, something always came up at the wrong moment, making one or the other of them pull back. Han seemed terrified of stepping wrong as much as Luke was terrified of everything to do with that much intimacy and connection.

But no matter how many times he drew away, Han always waited and came back, with a warm kiss in the morning, or when he handed Luke his breakfast. Han was always up first, and Luke was getting used to stumbling into Han and Chewie already eating breakfast.

Chewie, for his part, had accepted Luke gladly aboard the Falcon, and though he sometimes muttered asides to Han about how often they were gone, he seemed as pleased as the other former smuggler that they were on the move and doing good at the same time.

Luke couldn't quite ever express to Chewie how relieved he was that was the case.

He had moved his things into Han's bunk and stayed there, despite all their setbacks.

One night, Han pressed further than he usually dared, and Luke so badly had wanted to let him. Until Han twisted his fingers just right, and had kissed Luke's hipbone and he almost screamed.

Slamming his hands over his mouth, he froze completely and Han looked up. “What?” he whispered.

“Screaming,” Luke said and his hands were shaking. “Hearing myself—I don't think it's about hearing other voices screaming, but my own—”

“Oh,” Han said and frowned.

Luke started to push himself up and away. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry I thought—”

“That just means we have to take things slower,” Han said.

“Slower?” Luke asked, almost a laugh. “How much slower can possibly—”

“I mean,” Han continued steadily. “This. This part can go slower. You can coax someone through sex as much as you can drive them off a cliff.”

Luke's face twitched and Han grinned at him. “Trust me,” he said, and dived back down. Luke wanted to protest again, and almost did before he sank back down, trying to trust Han again.

He remembered at time when it came so easily.

Closing his eyes, he tried to pull on the Force, to distract himself from the way his hips jerked and he couldn't hold the whimpers back.

But the whimpers did not become screams and eventually he gave up on any distractions, even as he kept his hands over his mouth just in case. But Han was careful, slowly pushing Luke higher and higher until he threw his head back with a soundless gasp and came. He floated for a while, his senses flung out and everything around him felt bright and alive with the Force.

“See?” Han said, nuzzling the side of his face and Luke finally gave him a weary smile. “Trust me, Luke.”

And for a while, Luke thought he could.

-0-

They lost the girl first.

Leia called them back from where they were hunting down rumors of a Force-sensitive healer out on the Outer Rim. Luke had hoped she might have been an old Jedi in hiding, but they gave up on the cold trail and came running back to the Core.

“She's gone,” Leia said, and the boy, Ben, was poking his head around the doorway to his sleep chambers, where he was supposed to be out of ear shot. “They took her, they took my daughter—!”

Han held her when she beat her fists against his chest and screamed while Luke went to the boy.

“Come on,” he whispered, trying to lead him away but the boy tilted his head back with too dark eyes and Luke felt a sliver of fear work its way down his spine.

“Won't we make them pay for my sister?” he asked.

Luke's grip on his shoulder tightened as he pushed him into his chambers. “That is for us to decide,” he said.

“They should pay,” the boy said, and his eyes flickered past Luke. “Why is he back, anyway?”

“Your father cares a lot about you,” Luke said.

“He's never here,” Ben replied.

“He does what he can for you,” Luke said. “He's not never here.”

“He isn't when it matters,” the boy said, tilting his head back to meet Luke's eyes. “When we were hurt, or when we needed someone to listen to us. He's here for big events, not for us.”

“It's not that easy,” Luke said.

“At least you're not our father,” Ben said, still looking at him too intently. “At least you have that excuse.”

“It's not an excuse,” Luke said and the boy just stared at him until Luke convinced him to bed.

-0-

They looked everywhere, until Han broke one of the consoles in the Falcon in his rage. “Did they kidnap her or kill her?” he yelled at nothing.

“We can't tell,” Luke said, and he was getting messages every day from his school, asking him to come back. The other Force-sensitives he had found were holding the school steady, but they were mostly untrained and as desperate for guidance as the students. “We might never be able to tell—”

“Because we can't find the bastards who did this!” Han yelled and Luke used the Force to pick up pieces of the broken control console.

“I have to go back,” he said, not meeting Han's eyes but he could feel the fury coming off him. “They need me to return.” He still didn't look up, starting to slot the broken machine back together. “I'm not asking you to break off the search yet.”

“At this point,” Han said, his voice flat and dead. “She's probably already dead.”

Luke tried not to think about how little connection he had to either of the children. He had never felt anything through the Force to tell him one way or the other. “We can't know that,” he whispered.

“I've lost my little girl,” Han said, voice broken.

“Don't give up the search yet,” Luke said, resting a hand on his shoulder.

Han didn't, but without Luke with him, the minuscule leads dried up too fast. Leia was trying to hold down her own emotions and the fledgling new government at the same time. A year after her daughter disappeared, she walked out of the New Republic Senate and never came back.

-0-

When Han was too far away, Luke could still feel him across the Galaxy.

One night, Luke woke up in a cold sweat, because he could feel Han's knuckles hurt, and his chest ache. When he desperately called him the next morning, Han only shrugged and smiled with no amusement or affection and say he got into a barfight.

Luke refused to ask with who or why.

-0-

New students still commented on Han, whenever he came around, slinging an arm over Luke's shoulders. At least he did not kiss him until they were alone and Luke allowed himself to melt against him.

“Jedi aren't supposed to love,” he said once, his head pillowed on Han's stomach and looking at the ceiling.

“You've said,” Han said and enough time had passed he sounded amused.

“How can I explain that to my students when I'm still with you?” he asked the darkness above them and felt the muscles beneath him tense.

“Do you have to explain it?” Han asked. “Isn't that one of those traditions that might be better off left in the past?”

Luke frowned at the ceiling, because he could still feel the rage like the Battle of Endor had been days ago, not years. He still felt himself slide too close to the edge when it was Han or Leia on the other side of danger—or Ben.

“It's still dangerous,” he settled on.

“You've handled it well,” Han said, stroking his hair, and Luke turned his head away.

“I'm not everyone,” he settled for finally.

“Are you trying to say this is over?” Han asked, fingers still in Luke's hair and too much time passed before Luke could answer.

 _Yes_. “No,” he said.

-0-

Ben arrived, already his posture stiff and a single hard line. Han had stuck around after his last trip to fetch a new student. He hadn't slept the night before, and as a result neither had Luke.

Ben was already causing comments. Han had looked at Leia the last time they had family dinner, snarling that the boy was growing up too cold, too angry, and she had narrowed her eyes in response.

“He and I are both doing the best we can,” she said and it felt like a blow to Luke, at how often he and Han were gone. He had tried to convince Leia to come with them, to join the school even and work on her own powers. She had agreed to some minimal training, but so far rejected anything beyond that as taking too much of her time away. And she was already concerned with rumors from the Outer Rim of an Imperial Remnant on the rise.

“Didn't we already fight that war?” Han had said, trying to play it off as a joke. “Can't you leave that to someone else?”

“No,” Leia had said.

Now Ben was at the school without his mother and Luke was afraid.

“There's too much of Vader in that boy,” Han groused at dinner and both Luke and Leia stared at him, Luke's heart in his throat. “Don't you see it? He's angry, he's vicious.”

“Maybe Luke can help him,” Leia said and Luke wanted to crawl away. His scars had never faded, and he could hear Vader's breathing in his sleep still. Anakin's ghost was still a constant in his life, but Yoda disappeared after a while, and Obi-Wan seemed to flicker in and out around Anakin and the silences between them even in death.

“How do you want me to help him?” Luke asked.

Leia reached across the table, holding his hands. “You have to train him,” she said. “He's strong in the force—he can do things. Move objects already, and play with people's minds. I've tried to teach him between right and wrong, but this isn't the right place for that anyway. You though, you can convince anyone of what's right.”

Luke felt those words pressing against his shoulders like a physical burden. “I can try,” he murmured.

“I believe in you,” Leia said and Han seemed to agree, smiling at him like he didn't still wake up screaming, didn't still doubt every time Han kissed him and he could remember Palpatine's voice curling around the words he'd spoken of Luke's friends and his failure.

Luke had failed before, he didn't remind them. He hadn't been able to defeat Vader or Palpatine, and his heart had only put everyone else in danger.

But they had survived that after all.

Now Ben stood in front of him, hard eyes and firm hands. “Nice school,” he sneered and Luke didn't know what to do.

-0-

“He harasses the other students,” a slender man explained to him. He had some skills as a healer, and more as pilot, but none as a Jedi. “They don't like him.”

Other warnings slid in, and Luke took each of them like a blow.

He stopped paying attention to his other students, too focused on trying to prove Leia and Han right and himself wrong.

“My father,” Ben sneered when Luke brought Han up, in the Core worlds trying to raise support for them all. “That weak man?”

“He is not weak,” Luke said, because he believed it. “He may not be ideal to you, but he is not weak.”

Ben looked at him and there was something sly in his eyes. “But he's ideal to you, isn't he?”

“What?” Luke asked when he could.

“Isn't it pathetic?” Ben asked. “That you took my father away from my mother? That you try to preach the old ways at the same time you can't even follow them yourself?”

Luke focused on pushing air in and out of his lungs. “I don't know what—”

“My father comes here and slinks into your rooms,” Ben said. “Don't think everyone hasn't noticed. You look at him like the sun and he's never stopped looking at you the same way.” His mouth curled into a sneer. “But you're my mother's brother, and you took away her lover for your own. You're all downright degenerate. You couldn't even keep us safe.”

“Your sister,” Luke started and he made a cutting motion through the air.

“Don't,” he snarled.

“Ben,” Luke tried again.

“My father,” Ben said, disgust laced in ever syllable. “Is a pathetic man, and you're even more of one to accept him here.”

“With time, I hope you come to understand us differently,” Luke said faintly. “But now, I would hope you could turn your attention to your training.”

“Yes,” Ben said. “My training.” His smile was cold and Luke wanted to run away.

 _Too much of Vader_ , he remembered, and wanted to say that wasn't true. Something about the boy reminded him more of Palpatine.

-0-

It went wrong, as his fears almost seemed to guarantee it would.

-0-

Han was gone when everything they build fell apart with the stroke of a lightsaber, one that had turned red overnight as Ben knew exactly what he would do the next day.

Luke had been too hopeful and too blind to stop it.

He had let his own weakness and narrow, shortsightedness destroy not only his life's work, but the students he had sworn to protect.

Han came roaring back before the smoke had cleared from all the embers.

“I have to go,” Luke said, not turning to see him.

“Of course, where can I take you?” Han asked, and his hands were shaking.

“That' snot what I meant,” Luke said after listening to the wind whistle between the fallen building in front of them. It had been an ancient temple, that he had restored and hoped might be a symbol in the future for a resurgent order.

“Luke,” Han started.

“I can't stay,” Luke said. “I cannot be the last Jedi anymore. Everything I have ever—it's gone. I've failed in,” and he choked on air. When Han reached for him he moved away.

They argued, back and forth for hours, as Han led him on to the Falcon with the other survivors of Kylo Ren's massacre. No students of course, but those Force sensitive men and women who had agreed to believe in his vision with him, and try to teach the students how to be Jedi.

“Luke, you cannot leave me behind,” Han said, when they finally settled over the table, lights low and everyone else in bed.

“I cannot take you with me,” Luke said, because of that at least he was certain.

Han ran his hands through his hair, which had started to turn salt and pepper with silver in among the brown. “Luke,” he whispered.

“I am going to try and find the first Jedi temple,” Luke said, looking away from him because it made too much ache. “Maybe there I can find some answers. Some option to stop this cycle from happening again.”

“What you're going to find is stones and nothing more,” Han said, banging his fists on the table.

Luke's smile was sad when he turned it to him. “Haven't you known by now?” he asked. “That the Force is so much more than that?”

“You're talking about leaving us all behind,” Han said. “Leia. Me. _My son_.”

“I can do nothing for any of you,” Luke said and Han braced his hands on the table, leaning over.

“What the stang are you on about?” he hissed. “You think—I helped you find most of those students, Luke. You think they meant nothing to me? I can barely—and you're here acting like you can just leave and no one would notice?”

“Han,” Luke said softly. “I lost _your son_.” He could feel the pain and rage seeping off Han even at a distance. He could not imagine what touching him would feel like.

“You think I don't know what he did?” Han asked, voice lost.

Luke's fingers trembled.

-0-

Han started drinking more and Leia was stony faced and refused to even allow Luke to see some of the warmth she used to allow him and few others. She had once allowed him to see her mask fall, but now she could not even do that around him.

He lingered, for a few weeks, wandering between them.

Han's rage was strong enough, he could feel it, even when they were not standing together. Rage at his son—and no matter what he said, rage at Luke.

If Luke could just leave, give them all time to grieve and pick up the pieces without breaking each other—

-0-

“You're still set on this temple, aren't you?” Han asked.

“Yes,” Luke said, and his own hair was turning silver. It was less obvious, as the blond strands simply faded to no color at all, but it shocked him when he looked at the mirror.

“Alone,” Han snarled.

“Even Artoo is not coming with me,” Luke said and the droid had shrieked at him, screamed and rocked from leg to leg. Threepio had frozen in shock and said nothing.

Artoo had railed at him, demanded to know why he would leave him, who had served him for decades faithfully and true.

“Why are you leaving Artoo?” Han asked, aghast, his shock breaking through the rage for the first time in days.

“Because I have to do this alone,” Luke said.

“You sound like you're going on some sort of atonement,” Han said, his voice flat.

Luke looked away. He was removing himself from everyone he had put in danger by being too weak, and hoping whatever he found might open the pathway to something better.

“Perhaps,” he allowed.

Han took a step forward and it required too much of his strength to not move back.

“When you've done enough,” Han said, voice low and even. “When you've atoned for whatever you need to. When you're ready.” He closed his eyes and Luke remembered too many nights kissing him, learning the curve of his face with his fingers and lips. “You will come back.”

It wasn't a question.

“I will come back,” he said, a promise, and Han said nothing more to him about not leaving. Instead, he stood there stony faced and watched him go.

Luke went alone and meant to come back.

Except no matter how far he traveled he still carried danger and regret with him, and found nothing to tip the scales in his heart back toward the light or a better purpose.

He was left with his fear and his love and his danger.

And he settled in the middle of the ocean, a desert boy surrounded by green and water and missed the heat of the sun and the coarse sand and the warmth of another voice.

 

**Author's Note:**

> (I'm going with my own theory that Rey and Ren are twins because I CAN and also finding an explanation for that. Obviously this could be proven totally wrong and Rey will probably end up being Luke's kid but *shrugs* This is where I am right now).


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